Glory and Gore
by TheProudWeirdo
Summary: I, a certified psycho, a cold blooded killer, a sadist and a professional manipulator, am admitting this. I've never been so scared in my life. No, scared is an understatement. I am terrified.
1. Chapter 1

"Just close the damn door when you are working. No one is thrilled by the screams, just you." My mother sometimes had her way with words. It was unbelievable. She was the only one who could bring some order to this fucked up house.

And really, in a moment I heard a loud door slam, and the screams muffled. I was glad- I honestly didn't share my father's love for human screams and shouts of pain. But of course, we let him have his moment. Better them than us, right? I peeled myself off the wall, closing my eyes. When did this mess happen? I'll tell you when. When I was born, at least for me. Tell you what, I should have never been born. At least not in this family. But who knows, maybe I was just like them. Hell, I knew I was just like them. Because the screams, as much as they weren't pleasant, weren't that bothersome either. Actually I was quite used to it by now. I walked out of my room that consisted of a simple bed, even simpler furniture and one small picture of my brother that was smiling at me from my drawer. I closed the door shut as gently as possible, trying to not make any noise. Because in this house, when they knew you existed, you got to expect something you would not exactly like.

It didn't help.

"Samantha" my father's head stuck out of the door of his operation room, and in every other situation it would be comical. In this situation, however, it was frightening. He was covered in blood (human blood. Someone else's blood. A blood that, just moment ago, was flowing in someone's veins.) and the familiar gleam in his eyes made me shiver. Maybe if I pretended I wasn't there, he wouldn't notice me and just go away. Maybe he would give up…

He didn't.

"Samantha." He said, his hand covered in blood sticking out, one finger curled. "Come here." H held a maniac smile on his savage yet intelligent face, intelligent because fuck that man had an IQ, and savage because so many murders leave their mark. Or how he called it, experiments. Thank you, I didn't want to be a part of it. Thank you very much, really.

I moved myself slowly, and suddenly my feet were heavier than before. Was that fear? No, I've never felt fear before. Disgust, maybe. Yeah, that would be it. Or was it a mixture of both? I never understood my feelings good enough to explain what I was feeling.

He opened the door more for me to step in, and the smell of burnt flesh hit my nose. I sniffled the place, blood and bodies everywhere. "You should clean up in here sometimes." I told him casually, pretending not to be shaken by the enormous amount of cut up people in here. Maybe I really wasn't. Like I said, I could never understand my feeling completely.

Instead of answering, he sighed, as if I I was hopeless (which I, in a matter, was. I never cared for anything and anyone but myself. Maybe that was the problem.) and ld me through the bodies. I gulped. I wasn't expecting to see all of it. At least not today.

Not on my special day.

"You are officially seven. This means you are old enough to see what family business is like." He said, and I couldn't miss the hint of pride in his voice. Was he really taking pride in this horrifying corpse exposition? If I was him, I would be having trouble sleeping at night. I shivered. "Here, look at what I'm working on." He led me closer to one of his tables.

I felt like puking. Honestly, my stomach turned upside down, and I felt bits of my breakfast on my tongue. In front of me was laying a man, eyes half closed and mouth agape. He was white, almost grey and his skin sported bruises and holes from needles. But what stroke me the most was that one of his arms was missing. Instead, there was a white bone and bits of meat peaking out of his shoulder.

This wasn't done for scientifically purposes anymore. This was pure madness. Just for fun.

For fun.

To tear someone's limp just for fun.

I wanted to curl up and die. This certainly wasn't my kind of fun. No, screams were okay. Dead bodies, too. But this… done by my father… I was horrified. For the first time in my life, I felt fear.

He picked up scalpel. "Look." He sounded just as thrilled as a little kid playing with his favorite toy. This was his favorite toy. Humans were his favorite toy. "I'm going to make a hole in his fauces to see if he will breathe through it when I stop him from breathing through his nose."

He was mad. He was literally mad. His eyes were lit up by a strange glimmer and I wanted to scream for him to wake up. But it would be useless anyway. H e was a madman, and I was his daughter. A daughter of a madman. Of an insane genius. I suddenly knew I didn't want to be. I didn't want to be his daughter, to continue the family business of killing people for fun.

So I frantically turned around, hitting the screaming man as my father performed the operation, and stumbled upon some other corpses, burnt and torn apart, to find the exit. My father was so engrossed in his job that he didn't even notice I was running away.

I opened the door and didn't even bother to close it, filling the room with smell of corpses.

"Hey, close the fucking door, I told you!" My mother yelled out, but this time, on one answered. My father was too much into cutting someone's throat open to notice, and I was too shell shocked to even breathe, let alone close the door.

She walked out of the living room, in her beautiful long dress, with hair done without any strand out of place, and he casual I-will-murder-you expression. "Close the door." She sai rather calmly, the let her eyes widen at the sight of me. I flew past her, my arms pushing on her to get her out of the way, my dress flowing behind me along with my braid of red hair. My eye wide, mouth opened, I looked like an image of afraid. Which I was. And I didn't like the feeling.

I pushed the main door open with all my strength, and having it moving under my fingers was my biggest relief. I ran out of it, bare feet and cold, not even old enough to cross the streets without holding my mother's hand (or at least that's how other kids were. I never held my mother's hand once in my life. Not that I didn't want to… she never let me.) yet presented with numerous dead bodies and one half dead.

I stopped only when I was far enough from home, on the pitch black streets of Mitras, with only lights from inside the houses illuminating the streets. It was far too late. And I was alone. And cold. And…

Blood.

Dead.

Cuts.

I closed my eyes, shaking violently, even though I told myself it was from the cold. It wasn't. It was from the images, the blood on my hands, the blood around me, the smell the pain the screams and ohmygod I was going to die-

I opened my eyes. Wide. And exhaled. Inhaled. And exhaled. Repeated. The blood on my hands disappeared, along with the smell.

Things happened. Shit happened. Hell, my worst fucking nightmare happened. So what. I knew, deep inside, it was destined to come and bite me in the ass, my family, one day. It happened now. So what. I was prepared, I just didn't know it. I straightened my back. The man was weak. He got caught, he was weak to let himself die. In fact, every single body there belonged to a weak soul. Eat, or be eaten.

Kill or be killed.

That's what I learned.

That's what I believed in.

Unfortunately, I realized that the road I was walking wasn't the one in direction to my home. And even more unfortunately, I only realized it on stairs. Why were they so long?


	2. Chapter 2

I blinked, staring at the longs stairs in front of me. How did I end up here? The stairway was illuminated by dim lights, and it took me a while to get used to the light compared to darkness of the streets of Mitras.

The moment I got down the stairs, It clicked. This was most likely the underground. The underground, dirty and filthy slums under control of Military Police, a place everyone was afraid to even stick their nose in,… and now I was here.

Not that I was afraid, of course. Not at all. The least of my fears disappeared and now I felt only comfortable numbness. Why not to take a walk through the most dangerous part of the kingdom? A soft sigh escaped my mouth as I put my hands behind my back, trying to act a casually a possible. I was already dirty and smelled of blood. Talk about convenient timing.

The streets were ran down so much even I, a certified psycho, was surprised. People were randomly laying on the stone ground, some of them missing a limb or two, and they looked like they didn't even know what bread looked like, let alone ever ate one. I felt pity creeping p my stomach, but I dismissed it s a stomach ache. Actually, pity was some kind of sickness, at least to me. It numbed your senses.

I stumbled across an empty bottle. How did they even get the money for alcohol? A bottle of wine was twice as expensive as a normal meal. Broken people cannot think straight (my father was a living example).

"Lock it in." A merchant, an old pig with gigantic belly and even more gigantic nose ordered to his what appeared to be a slave, or a really underpayed servant. The servant sighed and put the box he was holding into a carriage, locking the box tightly in place, so no on =e could get in unless they had a key. I wondered what they were carrying inside, because it looked really, really expensive. And I mean a king size expensive.

As I was about to check on what he was doing, a little boy ran at him, almost flying, and grabbed his wallet from his back pocket, flipping over the carriage and landing on his feet. He had a frantic expression on his face, showing fear and regret. His eyes were wide, and he stopped for a moment, as the merchant's face turned red.

"You little punk!" The man yelled, glaring at the kid with ferocity only a rich man being striped of his money can muster. "return it. Now." He ordered, and motioned for his servant to go after him. The little boy ran, and ran, and ran… until he was outrun by the servant, who, even though didn't hare his agility and flexibility, was bigger and stronger. He grabbed him by his light brown hair, and tugged him behind him, with the boy struggling and kicking around like a wounded animal.

The merchant walked up to him, and I hid by the corner, watching what was going to happen. I was genuinely concerned about the boy. His face was twisted in mortified expression, and his eyes were shut. He looked so hopeless, like a kicked kitten. I wanted to step in. I so wanted to step in.

"I-I-… n-need." The little thing choked out, "the money…. Mother… eat…" he struggled to form words, and I felt a tug of pain in my chest. Mainly because we had enough and these people… these people had nothing.

The man spat in the boy's face. His eyes narrowed. "who do you think you are?" he said through gritted teeth. "just some dirty scum from underground." He tossed him to the ground, and I heard the boy hiss in pain.

"Better be dirty scum than a pig. Seriously, you need a diet." I couldn't help myself. I really couldn't. I mean, I didn't really want to cause a scene. But I just couldn't keep my mouth shut. Cold anger flared in my eyes at this injustice.

The man turned to look at me, and I could see the look of disgust on his ugly, fat hamster face. "And who are you?" he looked me up and down.

I felt insecure in my seven years old body. I felt weak. I didn't have a chance in fight. Not at all. "You heard me." I repeated, my teeth pressing onto each other. I clenched my fists and drawled out blood. I needed to keep myself in check before doing something I would regret later on.

But was there really something I would regret?

I picked up a larger rock from the ground. "you know, money doesn't help you duck." I said, my small lips stretching into a smirk.

"Wha-"

The rock flew out of my hand, aimed directly in between his eyes. I might've not been strong, but I certainly had a good aim. The rock gained speed and strength of hit as it flew, and it hit right where I wanted to. "Bull's eye." I said with satisfaction.

He stumbled backwards, mouth open. I wasn't sure of from the shock or from the pain, but I would bet all of my money on the first. I used the moment of distraction to grab the boy from the ground and run. I pulled him behind me, dragging him on the ground few times.

"Come on you idiot. Are you dumb or something?" I growled. "Run and fucking fast." My mother would scold me senseless for such language. But I was in the underground, might as well adapt.

He grumbled something incorrect about money, and then got up with half lidded eyes. He looked like a picture of despair, and I guessed he hasn't eaten for a while. Maybe weeks. His lips were crispy and dry, and the dark circles under his eyes so vibrant purple it spoke for itself. 4

I sighed. "You need to run. We can get you to safety. Okay?" I shook him slightly.

"Fa…ya…" he choked out.

"What's Faya?" Or rather, who? I thought, irritate. I risked my own skin to help him, and he was now holding us both back. I knew the merchant was going to go and get the military police, and that was the end for both of us. And my father won't get me out of this, not after the scene I made. We were finished. Completely finished.

"Faya… sister… take her… she's… " he shook, and I looked at him better. Did he have a fever? "She's still there." He finally said, and my eyes widened.

"With the merchant?" but the military police was coming. "Maybe we can wait till they pass us…"

"she… has… the money we stole…'

Oh shit. This was some fucking shitty situation. And that comes from a queen of sticky situations. I pondered for a moment. This kid suffered all of this to get some money, and they obviously needed it. I would give me mine, had I have any. At the moment, I was just as broke and homeless as they were. "Fine." I muttered, defeat and anger in my eyes. "Fine." I stomped (I was seven, bear with me) and turned on my heel, but not before sticking him into a dark alley.

I walked slowly towards the place, pressed to the walls of buildings around me. I could feel cold from stones behind my back, and I was regretting my choice. It wasn't a good idea. It really wasn't. I crouched, searching for something that would be a little girl.

I could only see the merchant arguing with a military police officer, and his servants humbly sending in the back.

Nothing.

But then I spotted a head of light orange locks, hidden under the second carriage that stood there. I grunted. Why such a stupid hiding place?

I sighed. This was going to be a lot of work, and I wasn't going to like it. I picked up a rock, larger than before, and threw it a direction the farthest away from the carriage. It successfully averted the officer's attention, and he turned around to check on the suspicious noise, While he was at it, I quickly an towards the carriage, hoping the old pig won't notice me.

He was facing the other direction, where the noise came from, and with narrow eyes, he studied the area. His servants saw everything, as they've been further away, but luckily they chose to keep quiet. After all, what kind of servant liked his boss?

I crouched next to the carriage. "Come on." I told the little girl softly. "Come on. We need to go. Trust me, your brother is with me." I whispered urgently, tugging on her shirt as she shook her head. She appeared to be a year or two younger than me, but definitely a lot smaller.

"Fuck it."

I pulled her out of the carriage and picked her up. She weighed less than a feather. I smiled. Until the merchant turned around.

"You again!" he growled, "Do me a favor and be useful for once, idiots. What are you even waiting for?" he yelled at his servants, who ran after me. Thank you very much, old man. I quickly ran through them, leaving a trail of dust. I was swift, swifter than them. I could get away.

One of them grabbed my hair.

Maybe I couldn't.

The man pulled on, and I had only a millisecond to think when I saw the small knife hanging around the little girl's neck on a small piece of cloth. I yanked it, tearing the cloth and cut my hair right under his hand. With my hair now short, I got myself free, and gave one sad look to my long red hair before running away as fast as possible.

I stumbled over the corner of the alley I left to boy in, and put the girl down as I searched for him.

"wait here." I commanded. I didn't want her to get in my way. Or anyone for that matter. I felt like I was the only one in here that actually had some sense. And that was something to say, coming from a family of psychos.

"Who are you?" came the confused voice of the girl.

"A friend." A raspy voice told her, and I turned to the direction of it. There he was laying on the ground, clutching his stomach. "You don't have to be afraid."

She shook her head. "I'm not afraid." She said stubbornly, stomping a little. Oh, how she transformed form the little girl covering in fear to this stubborn little brat. I rolled my eyes. This was a long day. And it was still going to be.

"That's good." I said patiently, feeling much more mature than both of them combined. And maybe I was "Now, what are your names?" I asked, not really caring. I just needed to keep the conversation going to distract them.

"Faya." The girl said, regaining confidence. "What are you going to do with big bro?" she asked, almost sounding afraid. Scared. Of me? She should've been scared before she went along with this stupid plan of theirs.

"I need to take him somewhere safe. He has a high fever and he doesn't seem to be thinking straight." I said, closely inspecting the boy. His eyes had a feverish glint to them and he appeared to be in his own world, frantically blinking around himself.

"You should try hospital, kiddo." Came a strong, male voice from behind me.


End file.
